All Those Pretty Lights
by TurnMyGriefToGrace
Summary: MerDer. Post 7.10. Not really spoilery. Just something short and Christmasy that I think was important, and not really addressed on the show. Enjoy!


**Disclaimer: Shonda owns the show. Andrew Belle owns the song used for the title. Not me.  
**

**I wanted to write over the holidays, and I haven't written a one shot since September, so this was a nice change from writing ten page papers comparing literary themes. This is just something short and Christmasy, and of course, MerDer. Enjoy! Happy holidays, and here's hoping for more MerDer in 2011! :)**

"What do you want for Christmas?" Lexie asked her a few days ago during breakfast.

Meredith sipped on her coffee as she pondered an answer. _A roommate-free house, a best friend who didn't blame me for the demise of her career, a non-hostile uterus, and a baby would be nice_. But she really can't ask for those things, and expect them to arrive under the tree in shiny boxes on Christmas morning.

"Nothing. We all survived. That's enough," Meredith responded.

Derek looked up from the newspaper, stopping mid-chew on his cereal. Meredith smiled and shrugged. "What? It's the truth."

They went back to eating their breakfast in silence. It was the truth, and they were grateful for it every day.

...

The house isn't decorated for Christmas this year. Derek's been busy with work and the clinical trial, Alex and Jackson don't really give a damn about holidays, and if April suggested anything festive, Lexie probably would have killed her.

(There's still no chore wheel hanging on the fridge. Meredith suspects April was afraid to make one.)

Meredith stands in front of the fireplace, barren of stockings, and sighs. "I miss when it was just the two of us," she tells Derek when she feels his arms wrap around her.

Derek laughs into her hair. "Hmm, that didn't last long."

"Last Christmas, only our stockings were hanging here," Meredith says. "I don't even think six stockings could fit here if we tried."

"That's because this house wasn't made to fit six," Derek points out. "Another reason we're building our own. All of the countertop sex we want, and no roommates walking in while we're naked."

"Now we have to be behind locked doors before any nakedness happens," Meredith manages to laugh, even though it's true and it's absurd.

"Lexie above us in the attic. Avery below us in the study. Karev and April down the hall. Not exactly conducive for loud sex," he says.

Meredith frowns. "I know."

Six people squished together like sardines equaled no privacy. It was simple math.

"New house rule once we're moved in: no strays, no matter how much they beg," Derek decides.

"Can I make an addendum to that?" Meredith asks. "No one gets a copy of the house key but us. No more room at the inn."

She's only half joking when she says it, but she feels like it should be chiseled in stone and mounted on the front door of the new house, just so people that stop by with their suitcases and pillows and first month's rent know to seek elsewhere for lodging.

"No more room at the inn," he echoes. "That's the Christmas spirit."

"Screw that. We've been very hospitable," Meredith says, leaning into him and smiling. "And I know you hate living in this frat house."

"It's not a frat house today. We're alone." Derek rests his chin on her shoulder and kisses her neck. "All alone."

Meredith feels his lips on her skin and stifles a moan. They've been walked in on in the heat of the moment numerous times now, and she's not about to be caught with her pants down again. Literally. "Hmm, yeah, but what if—"

"They're working all day. We have the house to ourselves until seven," he responds.

"How do you know?"

Derek turns her in his arms and grins, the happy look on his face so infectious that she smiles, too. "Merry Christmas."

"What?" She mulls it over in her head for a moment, then laughs. "You're the reason they're working all day," Meredith says.

"Did you know that if you bring in a holiday cookie tray to the nurses' station, you can get them to do just about anything?"

It's a pretty damn good gift, and he knows it. Between her non-wedding day solo surgery and this, Meredith can't decide which one she likes more. "Even change the work schedule so that your four annoying roommates have to work Christmas Eve?"

"Even that," he says.

Meredith loops her arms around his neck and kisses him. "Bribery, huh?"

"Hmm, it works."

"Get naked then." She pulls her shirt off and flings it somewhere next to the couch. "We only have nine hours until they get home."

They have sex by the fireplace twice, and Meredith stares up at the mantle afterward, Derek's arm curled around her. Minutes tick by and she doesn't say anything. She chews on her bottom lip, looking up at the emptiness that's bothering her.

"Hey. You okay?" Derek asks after a longer than usual stretch of silence.

"I…" Meredith starts. _No._ "It's just…"

Derek frowns. "Hmm?"

"January seventh," she says.

"What?"

Meredith turns to face him, her eyes catching on the pink scar line that divided his chest in two. A constant, visual reminder of the day she lived her own hell on earth. "That would've been my due date. It's two weeks from today."

"Meredith."

"I know we weren't meant to have that baby, and we're moving on, but I—" She shrugs as her voice gives out, and swallows the golf ball in her throat. "How can I not think about that? I should be eight and a half months pregnant, and there should be seven stockings hanging up there."

"I know." Derek kisses her temple and hugs her to him. "You know that tree lot on Madison near the hospital? I almost pulled in the other night after work and got us one, but I kept on driving, because it felt like…" He grapples for words, shaking his head.

"Like we shouldn't be happy?" Meredith offers. "Yeah. I get that."

"But we are allowed to be happy. We lived, Mer," Derek replies.

"Exactly. _We lived_. We lived, and our baby died, and whenever I'm supposed to feel happy about anything, I feel guilty," she admits.

He nods in understanding. "I know. Me too."

"I went to the store the other day to return that crappy blender that didn't work, and there was this family in there. I think they were taking their daughter to see Santa," Meredith says. "She was about a year old, I guess. She was wearing this little red dress, and she was so cute. And I thought about how that could've been us this time next year."

Derek smiles at her. "That's gonna be us one day. We're gonna make another baby, and put her in a red dress, and sit her on Santa's lap, and everyone will be jealous because she'll be the cutest baby there," he says. "We lived. And we can make more babies. And it's okay to be excited about that."

"I know," Meredith whispers, resting her head on his chest. "Stupid grief," she sighs. "I thought I'd be okay by now."

"It's supposed to hurt," Derek reminds her as he combs idle fingers through her hair. "But eventually, it won't hurt as much. Doesn't mean we'll forget; it's just a reminder that it's gonna be alright, even it if doesn't feel like it."

Meredith cups his cheek with her palm and kisses him. "Okay." He has that scheming look in his eyes and she smiles slightly at him. "What?"

"I have an idea."

...

They trek out into the busy holiday traffic and go to the first retail store they can find, overflowing with last minute customers who waited until the eleventh hour to start their Christmas shopping. When they get home, Derek hammers six tightly squished stockings onto the mantle, one for each of them, in various colors in sizes, thanks to the picked over selection left on the shelves. But given the mixed bag of people living under one roof, it's actually appropriate.

Meredith watches as he works, and when he's done, she hands him a seventh, a small, red baby sock. He puts it in between the ones dubbed his and hers, a reminder of what they lost, but what was still theirs. Still remembered.

She sniffles back tears when she sees the little sock hanging there, and Derek wraps his arm snugly around her shoulders. Their baby wasn't here, but Derek was, and she lets herself cry for both.

On January seventh, they drive out to the land after work, and bury the other tiny red sock in their soon-to-be backyard behind the new house being built. Meredith weaves her fingers through Derek's. He survived, and it's reason enough to be thankful. She smiles.

_oh and I wanna remember this night_  
_ and how my words never came out right_  
_ it's just my patience that keeps me alive_  
_ just like all those pretty lights_  
_ just like all those pretty lights in the sky_


End file.
